


Last Lovers on Earth

by AgnesBlue



Category: Downton Abbey
Genre: Angst, M/M, Pining, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-24
Updated: 2016-03-24
Packaged: 2018-05-28 16:13:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,292
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6335653
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AgnesBlue/pseuds/AgnesBlue
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They had been at this for centuries. Jimmy would get it right this time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Last Lovers on Earth

**Author's Note:**

> This is something I wrote ages ago and unearthed recently from the subfolder-y recesses of my laptop. I've stopped watching Downton Abbey since then and have no idea what's going on nowadays, if it's still going on at all, but thought I might upload the story in the hopes that someone might enjoy it.

Tonight would be his last night at Downton.

Thomas stood hidden behind a column in the downstairs hallway, taking long, jagged draws on his cigarette. They were not doing much to soothe his nerves, and his hands shook.

Voices drifted out from the Hall where the younger servants were gathered at the table.

“I can’t believe he’s leaving. After ten years,” Daisy remarked. “It’s so sad.”

“Well, I, for one, will be glad to see him gone,” Jimmy declared loudly. “We don’t need his sort around here.”

“Is it true Mr. Carson refused him a reference?”

“He doesn't deserve one. Let him fend for himself out there in the world, if he knows so much about everything.”

Thomas listened dully as they continued to talk about him. Jimmy in particular was merciless, cutting him down with savage glee.

And yet… Thomas forgave him. He knew Jimmy didn't know what he was doing. He listened, knowing that tonight would probably be the last time he heard Jimmy’s voice.

Finally, they were done with their gossiping and they each headed off to bed.

Jimmy turned the corner and in one last desperate attempt, Thomas quickly grabbed the arm of the passing footman and pulled him into the shadows. He knew he was setting himself up for even more grief, but he had to try.

It was not leaving Downton that scared him. It was not being sent off without a reference or the prospect of never having a decent job again that scared him. He couldn't bear to leave the young man behind.

“Jimmy.”

Jimmy’s jaws clenched in evident displeasure at the sight of the disgraced man who dared to accost him yet again.

“Five minutes. That’s all I’m asking –”

“So you can go on about that “fate” rot again?”

“Please.”

But Jimmy was having none of it.

“There is nothing between us. Nothing. Do you understand? Whatever you’re going on about, it’s insane.”

Thomas reached out, he was helpless not to, but Jimmy twisted away. He turned on Thomas, eyes fierce with contempt.

“Get it through your thick skull, why don’t you? Why would I want to have anything to do with you? So do me a favor and get out of my life.”

He watched Jimmy run up the stairs to get away from him as fast as possible. He had his answer.

Thomas left early the next morning, long before the sun came up. He never saw Jimmy again.

At least not in this lifetime.

*******************************

The coffee house was a quaint little place, tucked away at the end of the street.

A tall man sat at a table in the patio by himself, reading a newspaper. He wore a dark suit and his black hair was pressed down smoothly. There was a strange air about him, as if he belonged in another era, when things were more romantic and the men more dashing.

 _And when the average life span was around 55 and there was no internet_ , Jimmy Kent thought with a wry grin.

He walked over and greeted him. “Hello.”

The man lifted his head and his keen, blue eyes examined the friendly face. A little frown wrinkled the skin between his eyebrows, perhaps as he tried to place from where he might have seen the young blond standing before him.

“Yes?”

“Mind if I sit down?”

His gaze briefly flickered over the many chairs Jimmy could have chosen from. A red-haired woman was typing away vigorously on her laptop over in the corner. The shop was quite empty.

“Sure, why not,” he finally conceded, giving a faint shrug of his shoulders as if it made no difference to him.

Jimmy took a seat. _So, Mr. Barrow_ , he thought wistfully. _This time, it’s you who can’t remember me_.

He settled in comfortably in the wooden chair. God, it was so good to see him again. Simply looking at him made Jimmy giddy with happiness. He wanted to hear Mr. Barrow talking to him.

“How’s your coffee?”

“Fine. It’s just coffee.”

Thomas was hard to read as ever. But Jimmy knew him. He knew him now. The man was the same as he had been a hundred years ago, dark and mysterious and proud. And so very lonely. The loneliness was palpable. Jimmy felt as if he could reach out and touch it, just as he could have touched the strong brow or wide, red lips. He ached for all those years they had lost. They had parted on such bad terms and they had both paid heavily the price of Jimmy’s ignorance. It shamed him to remember how he had treated Mr. Barrow.

A large merle dog with a bow tie around its neck sat at Mr. Barrow’s feet. Reaching down, Jimmy gave it a few pats and scratched behind the bat-like ears as it thumped its shaggy tail on the tiles.

“Nice dog,” he said.

“It’s not mine. I believe it belongs to the shop.”

When he leaned back into his seat, he saw that Thomas was watching him.

“You like dogs?” Thomas asked.

“Yes, I have one, actually. A yellow Labrador. Her name’s Isis.”

“Interesting name. Not one you hear every day.”

He’d found her at a shelter and hadn't been able to help himself. “I've always loved them. I wasn't allowed one, though, not while I was working at the estate. Now I'm making up for lost time.”

Thomas nodded. “Are you a local?”

“Been living here my entire life. And you? Are you here on business?”

“Yes, but it’s coming to a wrap. I’ll be gone in a day or two.” Thomas answered. “I was born here, actually, then moved away when I was young.”

Yes, Jimmy thought he might have. But he was back now, back to Jimmy.

He remarked on an observation he had made. “Don’t you smoke anymore?”

There wasn't a cigarette in sight. Thomas hesitated, then gave a slow, self-deprecating smile. “I’m trying to quit. Is it that obvious?”

“No. No. But that’s good. Who’d have known smoking would be so bad for you?” Jimmy chuckled. “Isn't amazing how far we've come in the past century? All the things we didn't know back then. The world’s so different now.”

He leaned back in his chair and a faraway look came into his eyes. “But then again, I did like the early 1900s. It had its charms.”

“You make it sound as if you were around back then.”

“Perhaps I was,” Jimmy said.

A young woman passed by, wearing a long skirt and a white blouse. Her brown hair was in a loose braid over her shoulder. She gave him a sweet smile and he was suddenly reminded of Ivy Stuart. He wondered what had become of her after she left Downton. Everyone had expected them to marry and settle down but what was never meant to be was never meant to be. Neither in that lifetime, nor thousands of others that came before or after.

“I haven’t introduced myself. Jimmy Kent. At your service.” The thrill that went through his body at saying those words was indescribable. He had been waiting for so many years to say them again.

"You're a funny one, aren't you?" Thomas said in obvious amusement. "Are you always this formal? I'm Thomas Barrow, by the way."

"Occupational hazard, I suppose," Jimmy admitted. "It's been bred into me. I can't seem to shake it off."

“So, you’re in service? At some house working for a family?”

Jimmy burst out laughing. “No. Not anymore. I've been in that business for far too long. I was quite good at it, don’t get me wrong, but I don’t think I could put up with all that again. I suspect the people are still the same, no matter what century we’re in.”

Thomas’ cup paused briefly on its way to his mouth, but he didn't question Jimmy’s statement. “Oh? What do you then?”

“I’m a pianist. Bars here and there, give lessons throughout the week. You can catch me at around eight at Amitrano’s tonight if you have nothing better to do. It’s around the corner.”

“Yes, I've seen it while going about.” Thomas’ newspaper was forgotten by now. He was not even pretending to read it. Jimmy took it as a positive sign. “Perhaps I might.”

“I’d like that.” Jimmy looked at him for a long moment.

The conversation continued easily afterwards. It was almost as if no time had passed at all. They could have been sitting at the wooden table in Downton, chatting over a cup of tea with the noise of the other servants in the background. The only thing that was missing was the constricting livery and the hazy curls of smoke around Mr. Barrow.

They talked about their lives. Jimmy found out that Thomas was in finance and traveled often. Jimmy was glad to hear despite the long hours, Thomas enjoyed his line of work. He wanted Mr. Barrow to have led a happy, fulfilling life. They talked about family and friends. They both carried many similarities with their past selves. Jimmy still couldn't resist a good bet. Mr. Barrow was still vain about his appearance. While Jimmy was more comfortable in faded jeans and t-shirts these days, Thomas continued to hold an affinity for well-tailored suits. Neither of them had family. They were, in short, the same people they used to be, only deposited in a different period. This realization gave Jimmy hope. It had been love at first sight for Thomas. He could only pray it was the same now.

Hours passed and Jimmy still felt he could never get enough of Thomas.

Thomas’ left arm was on the table. Hearing the mad thumping of his heart in his ears, Jimmy leaned forward and gently stroked the hand. Thomas went still at the contact and Jimmy thought he could detect a glint of pleasure in Thomas’ eyes. He grew bolder.

“You’re not wearing your glove.” He’d never once seen Thomas without it.

“Gloves? It’s summer. Why would I be wearing gloves?”

He had the sensation of stepping up to the edge of a cliff. The drop was a long way down, but it needed to be done, as frightening as it was.

“Because you had scars, you see. You were shot during the war. Right here.” He turned Thomas’ hand over and caressed the spot, drawing little circles into the palm. It took all he had not to take the hand into his own and cover it with kisses.

“War. And which war would this be exactly? I think I'd remember being in one of those.” Thomas was humoring Jimmy now, that much was apparent. Probably thinking that the pickup lines these days had become truly ridiculous.

“World War One.”

“My goodness. You're quite serious about this, aren't you?” Thomas pulled away after a moment of silence. His demeanor had changed. Whatever interest he had was overshadowed by the absolute certainty that the person before him was mentally unhinged.

“Mr. Barrow. You’re going to think me completely mad.”

“Believe me, I’m halfway there already .”

It was now or never. He took the plunge.

“This isn't the first time we've met.”

“No?” Thomas asked coolly.

“We worked together for several years at Downton Abbey. We were in service, both of us, looking after the Crawley family. And I don’t think that was the first time we met, either. I think we’re doomed to live over and over again, until we both get it right. Until we don’t deny the other. Only one of us – probably me – keeps fucking it up. I want us to get it right this time.”

Thomas was getting to his feet now. Jimmy was losing him. Desperation well up inside his chest until he felt as if he could drown in it.

“You can feel it, can’t you? There’s this thing between us, binding us together. It’s much more than simple attraction.” He needed to choke back a sob to continue. “I lied to you, Thomas. I felt it too, all those years ago when you came to me, only I was too stupid and too scared to realize what it was. And I’m so sorry.”

Was Thomas even listening? The taller man stood still, the lines of his shoulders tense.

“You loved me. With everything you had. You showed me only love and kindness and I returned it with cruelty. You…”

“You belong in a psych ward,” Thomas interrupted. His briefcase was packed and held tightly in his fist. “Don’t follow me or I will call the police.”

And with that, he was gone.

Jimmy blew out a shaky breath and slumped in his chair. The world had suddenly turned gray again.

He didn't know what to do now. He cursed himself for his impulsiveness and recklessness, for scaring away Thomas.

He had thought… what had he thought? That Thomas would run into his open arms after Jimmy was finished with his impassioned little speech? Just as Jimmy hadn't done 100 years ago when the roles had been reversed? How stupid could he be?

He hadn't had a concrete, well-thought out plan, simply hoping that whatever forces had pulled him to Thomas back in the old days would be at work again.

They would meet again. Whether it was a week or year or a hundred years later. Meeting again was eventual. He wasn't worried about that. It was just that the time in between those meeting points were empty and meaningless and hollow.

Angry with himself, he left the coffee house. Out on the street, he hailed a passing taxicab and climbed in. He told the driver the address and stared glumly out the window all the way to his destination.

Downton had long since stood empty and forgotten. It cost a small fortune to upkeep and no one could afford it. Some of it was open to the public, but not many cared to come by. There were other places to see. A long period of neglect had taken its toll on the manor. The façade was dirty with the elements, the mortar crumbling. Slowly but surely, nature had reclaimed half of what had been hers.

“You again,” the groundskeeper muttered when he saw Jimmy. They were rather well acquainted by now. He left Jimmy alone, for his job was to chase out squatters and vandals, not strange boys who treated everything with such reverence it was humbling. Also, Jimmy would often bring him a few can of good beers and this further endeared him to the gruff old man.

Jimmy walked around the house, wishing he could go inside but that was strictly forbidden. He stared at the backdoor leading to the servants quarters, the wood now blistered and peeling, remembering how often he had passed to and fro.

He closed his eyes and imagined himself back when he was living in another lifetime. Pots and pans were bubbling in the kitchen. The servants hurried about, Mrs. Patmore with flour in her hair, Alfred trying to chat up Ivy, clueless of how busy and uninterested she was… and Thomas… his Thomas, composed and striking as always.

They were all gone, he was still here, and he missed them all so much.

He walked some more, following a thin, wildflower-covered pathway, hands deep in his pockets.

It was always at the family cemetery where his visit ended. He had read in the paper a few months back that George Crawley had passed away from cancer, leaving behind no living sons or daughters. The once great Crawley dynasty was coming to an end.

They were all there, interred beneath grimy, weather-worn headstones that were bore the names and dates, beginning with Lady Sybil, Matthew Crawley, the Dowager, and ending with many others. None of the servants, obviously. But even so… there was a little twist in his heart and for a moment it hurt to breathe. He wondered where they all were, if they were resting peacefully in the afterlife, or if like him, they were wandering about, trying to find their way home.

Perhaps Lady Mary and Mr. Crawley were together now, enjoying the happily ever after that had been denied them when they were both alive. Where ever they were, he wished them the best.

The last he’d heard of Mr. Barrow was that he’d gone to Bombay. No one ever heard of him again. It still kept Jimmy up at nights, imagining how Thomas might have spent the last days of his life. If he’d died in a foreign country surrounded by foreign faces, lost and alone and scared, calling out for Jimmy.

He had ruined a good man out of spite. He had rejected his love out of ignorance. Neither was forgivable. He deserved all this pain.

Several fat drops of rain fell on him, startling him out of his thoughts.

He glanced at his cellphone, only to realize it was nearly half past seven. He needed to get going or he would be late for work.

“I’ll come again soon,” he promised them.

*******************************

It stopped raining by the time he arrived at Amitrano’s. The bar was decently full, enough that it wasn't sparse, but not so much that it was crowded. The piano, a sleek black instrument, was set in the far end of the room. Jimmy went up to it, nodding to a few familiar patrons as he did so. Then he sat down and began playing without preamble. It was different this time. He played with a lonely beauty, each note full of sorrow and longing, putting his soul into it as if he could call on Thomas with his music alone. The room grew quiet as everyone turned to listen.

“Nice job,” Anthony, the owner of the bar, clapped him mightily on the back when he was done. It was high praise coming from him. “Why can’t you play like that all the time? You were so good I’m getting laid tonight.”

“Right.” It was incredible how tired he was. Jimmy looked around, but it was time to accept what he already knew. Thomas hadn't come.

“Are you crying?”

“No, I'm not. Leave me alone.” He shook off the hand tugging at his shoulder. It was late in the evening now and he wanted nothing more than to go home. He stepped out into the cool night, prepared to make the long trek back to his small, empty apartment. He would be there in fifteen minutes. He wiped at his cheeks.

He turned, dreading what would happen once the numbness in his heart wore off, and froze. For a few long seconds, he thought he was seeing things.

“Mr. Barrow.”

Thomas stood there in the street like a dark raven, his face inscrutable under the mellow lamplight. Then slowly, he parted his arms.

Jimmy couldn't speak. He was afraid he might die on the spot from joy. He walked over as if in a dream and pressed himself tightly against the strong body. After a moment, Thomas’ arms wrapped around him.

“I’m not saying I believe you,” Thomas said.

“You do believe me. You do love me.”

Lips pressed down against the crown of his head. “This is insane. I don’t know what I’m doing.”

“You do love me,” Jimmy said almost deliriously, clinging to Thomas. “You still do, even after all this time. After what I put you through. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

“Shh. It’s alright. You can make it up to me,” Thomas murmured, then chuffed incredulously into his hair. “I have no idea what I’m saying.”

But Jimmy knew. He pressed a grateful kiss into the hollow of Thomas’ throat.

They would get it right this time.


End file.
